


Seven Inches From The Midday Sun

by Claire



Category: Stargate Atlantis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-02
Updated: 2005-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-09 23:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12286746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: He thought he could handle it. It's only sex. It's only two guys getting each other off after long hours on set and no life outside a science fiction show that pays the bills. Only it's not just sex. Not anymore.





	Seven Inches From The Midday Sun

Joe can see the way the interviewer blushes and laughs when she asks the question, and he knows exactly what it is. He may not have heard it, but he knows. He knows they'll do it. They'll kiss again for the fangirls who think it's hot, and they'll play it up with jokes and laughter. And Joe doesn't want to watch it, but he will. He'll watch it and he'll know exactly what Paul is feeling. The surprising softness of David lips; the scar you don't even realise is there until it's pressed against you, the tiny imperfection a hold-over of David's high school hockey days.

David's eyes meet Joe's the same time as his lips leave Paul's, and Joe almost wishes they weren't as expressive as they are, but he knows he wouldn't change them. He can see everything in David's eyes, soft blue that speaks a thousand words with each glance.

The interviewer finishes up quickly after that, and Paul offers to walk her off the set, leaving Joe and David. And Joe wants to walk over and rub his thumb against the lips he knows are slightly swollen, but privacy is a fallacy in a world surrounded by cameras, and he's more than sure he doesn't want this getting on the dailies. His eyes flick back towards his trailer and David nods, almost imperceptibly.

David knows what he wants. Knows what Joe has wanted every time. And David will stand there and let him, let him wash away the traces of Paul that only Joe can detect, and replace them with himself. Searing himself into David's skin. And Joe knows it's dangerous. He knows that one day he'll go so far into David he'll never want to come out. Part of him thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's already there.

David just stands there as Joe's hands skim over him, fingers pulling at clothes until skin is revealed. Joe wants this, needs this.

He'd thought it had been a joke when he'd first read 'And McKay kisses Beckett' in the script. Had already taken two steps towards Brad's office before he realised storming in and telling them that David's not kissing anyone except him was the one thing he couldn't do. It kills him every time he sees David and Paul do an interview together now, because he knows that question will come up. He knows they'll be asked, and he knows they'll oblige.

Maybe it's a good thing that it wasn't McKay and Sheppard. Joe knows that it's hard enough to keep himself from kissing David, so if they'd had to do it on camera, the whole world would have seen it in glorious Technicolor. And Joe knows he wouldn't have been able to stop, knows it would have been the ultimate torture having to kiss David and look totally unaffected.

"Joe?"

He can hear the concern in David's voice, but ignores it. Sliding gracefully to his knees, he pulls David's t-shirt out of the way and rests his head against the soft skin. When they'd first started this it was nothing but quick relief, nothing but two friends helping each other out. Joe doesn't know when it changed. Maybe it was the first time he saw David's eyes light up in humour, maybe it was the first time he heard him laugh. He has more than a passing feeling it was the first time he slid inside David's body, hot and tight and feeling like nothing less than home. All he knows is it changed somewhere along the line. It changed, it changed from something into something _more_ , and Joe knows he's screwed. He's kneeling in his trailer, with David's fingers running softly through his hair and dreading having to let this man go. So, yeah, he knows it changed somewhere, he just can't seem to bring himself to care.

"Joe?"

But Joe doesn't move, even when the voice gets louder and the hands in his hair get more insistent. He stays there, head resting against David's stomach, listening to the pulse running through his body.

"Joe, we've got to be on--"

"David, shut up."

And David does. Without question, without comment. He gives Joe this, maybe because it's the one thing Joe hasn't asked for before, the one thing he hasn't had. He's had the laughter in David's voice after he's told a really bad joke. He's had the pleasure on David's face after he's had his brains sucked out through his cock. He's had the dressing afterwards and leaving like they're just friends. But he's never had the need screaming out in the silence.

And he's not stupid. He knows how many lives this could fuck up, knows the worst thing you can do is get involved with someone you work with. Only he thought he could handle it. It's only sex. It's only two guys getting each other off after long hours on set and no life outside a science fiction show that pays the bills. Only it's not just sex. Not anymore. Because if the worse thing you can do is get involved with someone you work with, then where does that leave him. On his knees and in fucking love.

Joe trails his hands down David's arms and threads their fingers together. In love. Christ, this was never meant to happen. And closing his eyes, Joe lets the silence surround him.

It's the banging on the door that finally breaks the silence.

"David? Joe? You in there?"

Brad's voice comes through the door and Joe finds himself half praying Brad doesn't come in and half praying he does. Because he knows the last thing he should want is to be found kneeling in front of David in fucking supplication, but he can't help but long for the honesty that could only come with discovery.

"We're just going over some scenes, Brad. We'll be out soon."

The lie falls from David's lips, settling on Joe's shoulders, wrapping around him. And if a lie could be tasted then this one is like cotton candy, both cloying and freeing, tempting him with the dizzying attraction of going higher and faster, of doing something, _anything_ , as long as it isn't standing still.

He pushes himself to his feet and presses his lips against David's, stopping the questions he knows are coming. He doesn't speak as his hands move down to David's trousers, undoing the buttons easily and sliding them down under his ass, fingers teasing at the crease as he goes.

"I want to fuck you."

David nods sharply and turns to face the wall. "The lube's under the couch."

Joe knows that, _should_ know that. It's his trailer, after all, but David is intimately acquainted with it. Should be, after being fucked on pretty much every surface in it. He grabs the lube quickly, opening his own trousers and releasing his straining cock as he does so. He coats two fingers and pushes them into David, shuddering gasp making his already hard cock even harder.

"Fuck, Joe--"

But Joe doesn't want David to speak, twists his fingers sharply to cut off the words, kills them with a hard nudge against David's prostate that has him arching back and nearly whimpering. He slides his fingers out and slicks his cock up quickly, pushing in with hesitation. And this is home. This is safe ground. The tight heat of David's body around him, the shuddering gasps forced from David's lips each time Joe moves, driving deeper and deeper. He wraps his fingers, still slick with lube, around David's cock and jacks him roughly. Once, twice and then David is coming, marking the walls with an indelible stain Joe knows he'll always be able to see. David's coming, and his body is clamping down on Joe, ripping his own orgasm from him. Biting on David's shoulder, the taste of bitter fabric in his mouth, Joe comes. His cock twitches, emptying itself into David as Joe rests his forehead against David's back, slumping forward as his softening cock slips from David's body.

Joe grabs a t-shirt off the back of one of the chairs and cleans them both up quickly. David's turning and smiling at him, but Joe can't look at him. There's so much he wants to do, to say, so much he needs. Closing the distance between them he brushes his lips across David's. It feels like love. It feels like goodbye. And fastening himself back into Sheppard's uniform, Joe walks out of the trailer.

*

Joe manages to avoid David until they're back on set, staring at each other over words that aren't theirs. Scene heavy and taut and layered with an undertone that Joe knows the fans will pick up on. They'll probably think Sheppard and McKay are fucking again, and Joe's tempted to laugh, but he knows if he does he'll edge into hysteria. It would be a lot easier if it were just McKay and Sheppard. Imaginary people with imaginary sex lives that have none of the repercussions.

They wrap the scene quickly and Joe escapes without looking back when David has to stay to go through another scene with Torri. He slips back to the costume trailer, changing into jeans and t-shirt quickly, not bothering to flirt with the people around him.

All he needs to do is grab his car keys from his trailer and he can be gone, leave the Pegasus galaxy behind and get drunk in a bar somewhere. It's a perfect plan, flawless in its simplicity, so Joe can't help but curse David for the bastard he is when he ruins it completely by already being in Joe's trailer.

"Well, that was interesting," David says lightly, Joe's car keys spinning on his finger. And if Joe's going anywhere, he's going on foot. Only he can't bring himself to move, light reflecting off the spinning metal almost mesmerising him.

"David--" Joe manages.

"Shut up." The keys snap abruptly into David's palm, and if there's light reflecting, well then it's shadowed by the anger in David's eyes. "How dare you." David's pacing now, absurdly long strides in a room that feels too small to contain them both. "You _fucked_ me against a wall and then just left."

Joe doesn't look at him, _can't_ look at him.

"The only thing missing was you leaving $20 on the cabinet, because everything else about this afternoon made me feel like nothing but a whore."

And Joe doesn't know if it's the anger of the words or the words themselves that force his head up. David's stopped pacing and is just looking at him, righteous anger searing its way through him.

"I--"

But David doesn't stop, doesn't let him speak. "We're both adults, Joe. If you wanted it to stop, then all you had to do was say so. For Christ's sake, I've fucked more people I've worked with than you, but you're the only one who made me feel like fucking punching them when it ended."

Joe knows he shouldn't be turned on by the anger pouring from David, but his dick twitches anyway, like a dog begging for its master's attention.

"Well, fuck you, Flanigan."

Joe's keys slam down on the table as David stalks towards the door. And Joe doesn't want him to leave, can't let him--

"I love you."

And just like that, David stops.

And it's not exactly how Joe envisioned making this announcement. He envisioned dinner and sex and, oh that's right, _never saying a fucking word about it_. But there it is, out and sitting right in the middle of them like a great fucking elephant, too big to ignore and not really knowing what it's supposed to do.

"Excuse me?"

Like David hadn't heard him, like somewhere between them the words changed. But they didn't. He said them, and that's not going to change.

"I love you."

And what do you know, it's easier the second time around.

David's moving now, closing the distance between them. "Bastard," he murmurs, all heat and anger, just before his lips touch Joe's.

And it's still fucked up and he's still screwed and the world outside is still there, but here and now, fingers frantically pulling at clothes and tongue sliding against David's, Joe doesn't really care.

*

It's late when Joe finally wakes up, arm thrown over David's body and the scent of sex still in the air. His muscles protest as he moves, a reminder of their recent activity, hard and visceral and _there_ , and he can't stop the slight groan that escapes.

"Joe?" David is looking at him, blue peeking through eyes that aren't entirely open yet. David's hand rests on his, squeezing slightly. "You okay?" And there's a hint of smugness that only David can carry off. Solicitous and concerned and 'I fucked you so hard you won't be able to sit down for hours' all wrapped up in one.

"I'm good," Joe replies, half surprised to find out he isn't entirely lying. There are still issues surrounding this -- and, god, he feels like a total shit for calling the other people involved in this 'issues', but if he starts thinking about names and faces and fucking _consequences_ then he knows he'll panic again. And David might track him down, but there'd probably be less chance of the great sex a second time around.

David's fingers dance lightly over his ribs, and Joe's not sure if it's Chopin, Bach or Nine Inch Nails, but he lets it play through him anyway.

There's silence as David just looks at him, and then, "What are you thinking about?"

"Great sex," Joe replies. Great sex -- and whether David would follow him again.

David grins, uneven and smug and totally perfect. "I can get with that," he says as he rolls them both over, Joe pinned under David's body, solid against him. David leans down, biting at Joe's collarbone as he thrusts gently against him.

Joe smirks, letting his mind slide away from thoughts of the respectable thing and the right choice, as David's hard cock moves over his. He doesn't have all the answers, certainly doesn't have the ones that he knows he needs. But here, with the feel of skin sliding against skin keeping the real world at bay for a little longer, Joe finds that it's more than enough.


End file.
